


Before, Now

by 14hpgirl19



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Based on Next Week's Promo, F/M, Falling In Love, Sharing a Bed, Skye | Daisy Johnson Needs a Hug, Will Likely Be Made Non-Canon, Without Saying the Word Love, post-7x09, time loop aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25345117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/14hpgirl19/pseuds/14hpgirl19
Summary: Daisy's finally out of the time loop, and she has to confront all the feelings it stirred up, especially when it comes to one Daniel Sousa.Post-7x09 speculation.
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 32
Kudos: 297





	Before, Now

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many WIPs to work on, and yet it's these two that have gotten me out of my writing slump. Go figure.
> 
> All mistakes are my own, hope you enjoy!

The Zephyr creaks, and Daisy sits bolt upright in her bunk, chest heaving. In those brief seconds between sleep and wakefulness, she thinks it’s all happening again.

But no. She’s woken up in her bunk, not the healing pod. The time loop’s been broken, the Zephyr is safely out of the time vortex.

No one’s going to die today.

Daisy realizes she’s gulping in air and steadies her breathing. She can’t count how many times in a row she woke up in that damn pod, stuck in the same day over and over. Now she’s afraid to fall asleep at all, lest she somehow trigger it once again.

But Jemma, ever the watchful doctor, insisted that she get some real sleep and, in that moment, Daisy was all too happy to escape to her bunk. She didn’t want to face the pitying looks of her team, now that they knew exactly what she’d experienced, the things she had seen. Yes, they had all been through traumatizing events, but this was by far the freshest and therefore the most painful.

Seeing everyone look at her that way hurt, but there was one person in particular… Daisy didn’t think she could face him just yet.

Daisy scrubs a hand through her hair and lies back down. Even closing her eyes for just a moment sends Mack’s death to the forefront of her mind. She can’t even recall which number that was. She watched Mack die a lot of times.

Giving up on sleep, Daisy gets up and creeps to the door of her bunk. A quick peek outside tells her there’s no one else in the corridor. They’re either elsewhere on the massive jet, or they’re getting some of their own desperately needed shuteye.

Daisy leaves her bunk and heads to the kitchen. The low hum of the Zephyr is the only other sound as she slogs her way through making tea. In a way, it reminds her of her powers. The vibrations that she can sense in everything, humming to her whenever she focuses on them. It’s a comfort, and one she’s learned not to take for granted.

“I thought you were supposed to be getting some sleep.”

Daisy nearly drops her mug, a sure sign of how fried her nerves are, but manages to recover just in time. She already knows who’s at the door, and she already wishes she had just stayed inside her bunk.

“I think you know better than to assume I can actually sleep right now,” Daisy counters, forces herself to turn and face him. Sousa lingers in the doorway, looking strangely… mellow in his standard SHIELD shirt and sweats. Simmons fished out some spare clothes for Sousa when he joined the Zephyr, but this is the first time Daisy’s actually seen him in something other than period clothes.

She knows he has his new prosthetic on, but he still holds himself like he’s wearing the old one. To him, he only got it a day ago.

To Daisy, it’s been months.

“You left so quickly earlier,” Sousa says, taking a hesitant step forward. Daisy curls her fingers around her mug until the knuckles turn white. “I thought you wanted rest.”

She gives a noncommittal shrug. “Sure. I did want that.”

Sousa regards her for a moment, clearly weighing his next move. A muscle clenches and unclenches in his jaw, and Daisy half-wishes she had Yoyo’s ability to speed away.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Sousa finally says, and Daisy’s stomach drops. “Is now a good time?”

Despite it all, she wants to laugh, because who asks if it’s a good time to have a difficult conversation?

Daniel Freaking Sousa, that’s who.

Daisy rubs her face and nods. “Yeah, sure. What the hell.” Might as well get it over with.

She and Sousa settle down at the kitchen table, sitting across from each other. Her hands haven’t relaxed around her mug just yet.

Again, Sousa seems to weigh his words before speaking. “This… time loop you were trapped in. How long were you in there for?”

Daisy barely suppresses a shudder. “Longer than I can keep track of.”

Sousa winces a little at that. “Right. And each… cycle, I suppose. Someone died each time?”

This time, Daisy doesn’t hold back the shudder, because she can hear Jemma screaming and it’s enough to rub her already raw nerves the completely wrong way. “That’s right.”

His eyes, instead of pity, are only full of compassion. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Daisy quirks a humorless smile. “Just another banner day for the books.”

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice equally dry. “Something tells me you’ve had quite a few of those.”

“Hasn’t everyone here? Haven’t you?”

Sousa leans back in his chair, and without seeing it, Daisy knows he’s rubbing his thigh. It’s a tic of his that she picked up on rather quickly while in the loop. The reminder makes her heart clench.

“I just wanted to,” Sousa starts to say, then stops. Tries again. “You said something to me. Earlier. I want to know what you meant by it.”

Daisy takes a sip of her tea to stall for time. She’s not going to insult him by asking what he’s talking about. They both know what it is. After all, it’s one of the biggest reasons why she willingly went back to her bunk when everything was said and done.

The thing is, Daisy spent months and months inside that loop, reliving the same day over and over again. And while the chaos of everything made it hard to get any down time, there were still moments. Moments where Daisy found herself alone with Sousa, whether they were repairing something or patching up that stupid cut Daisy always seemed to get on her upper arm. Moments where they could talk, and she could actually get to know him a little better.

And inch by inch, Daisy got a better picture of who Daniel Sousa was, which only made it harder when she had to watch him die. Of course, it wasn’t always Sousa who died, but at a certain point, his death was the one that reminded her the most of those final moments with Lincoln, before his quinjet blew.

During that final loop, the one that broke it, the one the entire team can _finally_ remember, Daisy had grabbed Sousa before he walked off to his death and said, with wrenching honesty, “ _Please don’t go. I can’t lose you again.”_

And Sousa had listened, and the plan finally fell into place, and now Daisy can finally live out the next day. Which does come as a relief, she can admit that. But now she has to confront those words and the inconvenient feelings they carry. She could ignore them before. She can't now.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Daisy says after the silence has stretched a bit too long. “They were spur of the moment words. I was tired of losing everyone at that point.”

“Right,” Sousa says. “Sure. Except, you didn’t say it to anyone else. Or did I just miss that?”

Daisy could lie here, she knows. It would be an easy way out, but also Sousa has a scary way of seeing through all her bullshit. She doesn’t actually think it would work.

“I’ve lost a lot of people,” Daisy says instead. “Family, friends, and… otherwise. I was feeling a lot in that moment. I was scared.” She keeps her face composed, a skill she learned after hours of watching May. “Scared people say all kinds of things.”

“I guess I just don’t understand what you were scared of,” says Sousa. “I’m the new guy. We haven’t known each other that long.”

“I’ve spent months with you,” Daisy snaps before she can stop herself. Not a very May-like move. She presses her lips together. “It’s just different for me,” she finishes lamely.

Sousa’s eyes dart across her face like he’s piecing something together. Slowly, he says, “In this loop, did we… were we…?”

She fills in the blanks and shakes her head. “God, no. We were too busy for anything like that.” Well, he was. Things flowed a little differently for her, hence why she’s in this mess at all.

“But you said –”

“I know what I said,” Daisy grits out. “And it was caused by stress and panic and meant _nothing._ ”

She stands, the sound of her chair skidding back coming harsh and loud. She makes to leave, but a warm, calloused hand wraps around her wrist before she can get far.

_That hand on her shoulder, holding her steady while he cleans the wound on her arm. That hand pulling her close, pulling her way from falling debris. That hand –_

“Daisy,” Sousa says, and though she’s heard him say her name so many times, it’s different now. This one will stick.

Daisy closes her eyes against hot tears. She whispers, “The last guy I – he died. He sacrificed himself for me. I didn’t – I kept getting déjà vu. I needed it to stop, I needed _you_ to just…” A tear slips down her cheek. “Stay.”

She can’t look at him, she _can’t,_ and she waits for the moment when his hand will leave her wrist. That comes a moment later, but it doesn’t leave entirely. It moves to her palm, his fingers sliding between hers. A sob wrenches itself from her throat.

Daisy barely registers being pulled into his arms, doesn’t even fully realize he’s stood up. She just cries. Cries for Lincoln, cries for her mother. Cries for all the times her friends – her _family_ – died in front of her.

Eventually her tears subside. Sousa pulls back just enough so she can look into his eyes. He wipes away a stray droplet with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He looks just as affected as she does, though he thankfully isn’t crying. That might be too much for her. “I’m so sorry you went through all that.”

Daisy sniffs and tries to step out of his arms, but they hold firm. “It’s not like it’s your fault.”

“No,” he agrees. “But I’m still sorry.” He looks at her for a moment more before saying, “Come on.”

Daisy isn’t sure where he’s leading her, but she doesn’t have the energy to fight back. Every cell in her body sings with exhaustion, and emotionally, she’s a wrung-out towel. So she follows in his wake as he walks through the Zephyr’s halls, his hand tucked in hers.

Sousa brings her to his bunk. A very faint flare of alarm goes up in Daisy’s mind, but she bats it away when he says, “I thought maybe… me being near could help you sleep.” He holds up his free hand. “Though if this is overstepping, you can leave. It’s just an –”

Daisy doesn’t let him finish before she steps inside the bunk and drops down on the bed. She tugs Sousa down with her, and his movements are jerky and awkward as he settles into this new arrangement. Eventually, though, they end up curled into each other, Daisy on his chest, his arms around her.

Before, Daisy struggled to sleep, but now her eyelids get heavy all over again. She’s safe, with this man she’s technically only known for a few days.

“Thank you, Daniel,” she mumbles, already half-asleep. When he speaks, his chest rumbles against her cheek. _Vibrations._

“I don’t think you’ve ever called me that,” he says softly. Daisy curls her fingers into his shirt.

“Months. So many months.”

He holds her a bit tighter after that.


End file.
